The People We Are in Real Life
by Luna Maria Boulevardes
Summary: The people we are in Real Life are not who every one sees. Raven would know; she's always been able to hide her secrets. Warning: mentions of rape and abuse.
1. prologue: damanged goods

**the people we are in real life.**

by l. m. boulevardes

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_prologue: damaged goods.

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_

This is who she is in real life –

She is messy, dirty, filthy, unable to scrub the stain away and unable to change the past (though she desperately wishes she could). She is impure, she is forever tainted because of what he did to her; she'll never forget it. She'll never forgive him. And even though she doesn't consider herself to be an especially weak person, when she remembers everything that happened then, she can come to no other conclusion than that she is, somewhere deep down inside, very weak. And this disturbs her.

It haunts her when she's sleeping, and it lingers in the back of her mind when she's awake. She wishes it wouldn't, that it would all go away – but it's under her skin, in her tissue and her blood and always, always linked to her whether she likes it or not. It's been this way since it happened, and she suspects it will be that way until she dies. It's unfortunate, but it happened – what can she do about it now? The one thing she has learned is that the past cannot be erase – no matter how much you wish it would be.


	2. i: what you don't know won't kill you

**chapter one: what you don't know won't kill you**

"Raven?" Robin says her name delicately, as if afraid of hurting her, crushing her if he doesn't treat her name with the utmost glass-fragile care. Sometimes, she hates it. But tonight, standing in the moonshine with her dark hair falling down around her, she lets it go.

"What's going on, Robin?" she asks, as though this is not out of the ordinary and everything is fine-fine-fine. It's three in the morning, and she had another night terror. It's always so embarrassing to be caught in one, for people to see the thrashing and the screaming and the crying. And the worst part is always when she wakes up, and then want to know _what's wrong_ and _is she okay_. Of course she's not okay, not in the slightest, but she can't let anyone else know that.

"Raven?" It sounds like he didn't hear her question – like he's too shocked, too helpless to respond. This, of course, only angers her further, and she has to take several deep breaths to remind herself to calm down, and not allow her anger to show, because that will get her no where, now will it? If she wants him to leave her alone, and trust her when she says that _she is fine_, then she'll have to play the part.

Okay, deep breath.

"What, Robin?" she echoes, now turning to face him. He looks at her as the moon comes in to illuminate her from behind, casting her in a white glow. Her purple hair, now grown out long, is in a braid that's mussed and coming undone. Her white nightgown highlights the luminosity of her skin, makes her look like some kind of fallen angel. Her violet hair are haunted, and when she smiles he detects something _distinctly forced_ in her movements.

Maybe people think Robin is stupid, or at the very least liable to miss details. This isn't true at all; it's his fine eye for details that makes him such a good team leader. Sure, he's guilty of sometimes falling off the wagon and moving towards ObsessiveTown, but who among them hasn't had a few good obsessions? It's that experience that tells him that something is bothering Raven, something is eating at her deep inside. He sees the way that something festers and rots in her, gnawing at the deepest parts of her marrows and smiling in triumph and they peel back the layers of her bones. Her gooey arteries and veins now lay exposed, and a knife dances a dance across them, threatening to slip-fall and crack her open at any given moment.

"You're not okay," he says, his heart swelling with concern for his friend and teammate. She shudders, neither denying or confirming his words. He thinks, or at least he likes to think, anyway, that he and Raven have a special relationship, and that there's something unique between the two of them that isn't shared by the rest of the team. Of course Cyborg will always be the older brother Raven never had, and Starfire will always be the girl Robin loves and worships – and neither one seeks to have that with the other. Their bond is more than that of a brother and sister, and yet not that of lovers. Not to get weird and new-age, but he sometimes likens it to being on a spiritual plane, a place of soulmates where two people are as close as they can be and not be lovers.

"I don't want to talk about it, Robin," she says, her shoulders sagging and her eyes trained on the ground. "Don't make me do that." Her childish voice tears his heart, and he wants nothing more than to take her into his arms and rock her back to sleep. He senses a darkness about her that he hadn't experienced before now – something disturbingly painful, some knot wound so tight that even to the touch, it quivers. He's afraid to touch it too hard; he's afraid he'll damage her more.

"Can I make you a cup of tea?" he asks gently, moving towards the kitchen without waiting for her response. She hesitates a moment, then nods her consent and silently follows him in, lingering like a ghost against the counter. He sets the water to boil, and takes out the loose herbal tea she prefers. Then he sidles up next to her, and after a moment he puts his arm around her shoulders. She says nothing, and she doesn't cry (because Raven doesn't cry, she _never_ cries), but she buries her head in his shoulder and her body shakes like she is.

"I wish I could tell you," she says, and hope he believes (though she doubts it) that she simply means she can't remember her dreams, can't tell him because she can't, not because she won't. The dirty (filthy) truth is that she presses back her lips when she could open them and let the flood of words come through, relieve all the messy bloody bits that she's never (ever) told anyone before. She would tell him about all the stupid things she did when she was younger, and how very sorry she is, and how he's hurt because of her, and because she's caught in this trap of her own making. Her only excuse is that she was so young, and so inexperienced, and she just didn't know any better or any different.

"Hey now," he whispers, rubbing her back and rocking her back and forth. "Hey, you're safe now. Everything will be okay," he tells her, even though he doesn't know if it's true. "We all love you. We'll keep you safe, Raven," he reminds her, hoping to bring some small comfort to her. She shakes her hand, and he notices how her hands curl in defiant fists, as though she's gearing herself up for combat. He takes her hand and gently rubs her knuckles until she lets loose again, and for a dizzy moment she sways and he thinks she _just might_ collapse then and there.

"I wish I felt safer," she says in a small little-girl voice. "I don't know what to do, anymore. I should feel safe now, shouldn't I?" she says, looking up at him with shining eyes and looking like she's trying to make a wish. But it's not her birthday, and there's no candles to blow out and assure her of the promise of a single wish granted. She'll have to make her wishes come true all on her own, and she's not really sure she can do that. She's scared of even trying.

"I wish I could help you. I'll do anything I can to help you – you know that, right?" he says, stroking her hair. She nods.

"You've already done so much, you know," she says, looking down at their linked hair. "You just don't even know it."

"What to tell me about it?" he asks, trying to know what he's done, what more he can do (there is no such thing as _enough)_.

"No, actually, I really don't."


	3. ii: i don't care if it hurts

**chapter two: i don't care if it, hurts i want to have control.**

Starfire knows that Raven likes to be in control of everything, but sometimes she wonders about that and it worries her. Like the time Starfire tells Raven to share a dressing room with her, and when she turns around to discuss all that's there is a pile of clothes, and Raven is gone. A quick phone call reveals she's _gone off somewhere_ because _her emotions are unstable_. And she is to be _left alone_. So Starfire angrily closes the communicator, and wonders why Raven is acting this way and ignoring that truth that yeah, her feelings got hurt.

"Raven is acting most unusual lately!" Starfire growls as she comes home, throwing her shopping bags on the couch with more force than necessary. So much as to stop Beast Boy and Cyborg from their video games, to make them look up and take notice of her.

"I think she's PMSing, personally," Beast Boy says. "I mean, it's probably healthier for all of us it she's off hiding somewhere. No big booms," he adds, eyeing the toaster suspiciously as though he expects it to go off at any moment. Starfire frowns.

"Raven menstruates every month. Why would this month be different from all other months?" she asks. The boys look at each other, but they don't have a good answer and truth be told _they don't want to go there_. Of course they notice her strange behavior, of course they notice that she's not the girl she's always been. She's too dark, she's worse than she's ever been before, except perhaps with her father. And they suspect that like with her father, she's liable to keep these things to herself, to insist on figuring it out alone (God, she can be like Robin in that way!).

"Hormones on strange things," Cyborg reminds her. Beast Boy's eyes light up, and he jumps up on the couch.

"Maybe she's _pregnant!" _he proposes, looking back and forth between Starfire and Cyborg. "Oh my god, that would make total sense!"

"It would not, you idiot," Cyborg says, rolling his eyes. "Besides, who would the baby-daddy be? You?" he sneers, looking incredulously at his friend. Beast Boy frowns.

"You think I couldn't knock her up? Because I totally could!" he sputters, trying to salvage his masculinity. Cyborg snorts.

"Like she would let you anywhere _near_ her," he says, shaking his head. "Raven's not like that – "

"Raven's not like what?" And suddenly the woman in question is standing in the doorway, looking shaken but unharmed, like a bird with ruffled feathers. The three Titan do not get up to greet her, hanging back and eyeing her with guilty eyes, ashamed to have been caught talking about her.

"Raven's got class," Cyborg says. The dark girl says nothing, training a cryptic look on each of them before she apparently finds her survey satisfactory.

"I'm going to my room," she repots, padding softly away from the main room. Beast Boy and Cyborg are ready to let her go, too afraid of this unstable, unknown territory to venture closer, to really push her to ask what's wrong. Because it's Raven, and she's always been so good at keeping in control, at never needing anything or anyone.

Starfire, on her best days, is not.

"Raven!" she calls shrilly, flying down the hallway and cutting her friend off before she can escape the sanctity on her room. "We must talk, Raven!" she demands, her eyes glowing green. Her long hair is all aflight, and she is the vision of a warrior princess, of a fierce and future Queen. And for a flashing moment Raven understands why on Tamaran Starfire is held so sacred, loved and worshiped as she is. Because when threatened, she is dangerous, and she will defend to the outer limits of her ability. Starfire will die before she loses a fight she truly believes in.

But she still cannot say it.

"I don't want to talk about it," she mumbles, turning her head away. "Just let me go to my room."

Because she remembers it all (contrary to what she'd have him believe). She remembers the touch of his hand on her thigh (between her thighs, between her thoughts), the way it would creep and her breath would hitch (in fear, in anticipation) and she would shudder (with desire, with terror). She remembers the heat of his breath on the back of her neck, sticky on her ears. She remembers him forcing her head down, because _he couldn't stand to look at her_. And she was a child at the time, on fourteen, so she obeyed.

It wasn't her fault, she reasons. She had no where to go, no one to help her. She couldn't control her powers, felt utterly helpless all the time. And he said _I can make it go away, little bird,_ and like the idiot she was she believed him

_(s[he] be[lie]ve[d]). _

She wishes she could take it all back, but the past can't be undone, only buried. And as he sits in a maximum security prison, she should feel safe. But she doesn't. She only remembers the burn of his (unwanted, always unwanted) kiss, and the grandeur of his mansion (she had never and such nice things) and the way he raped her, and the way she let it happen (she was such and _idiot!)_. She wonders if it was even rape, if it was negated because it was part of the deal that she agreed to. Add one more thing to his long lists of sins – holding underage girls for sex. She never should have said yes. The first time he offered her a home, she should have said no, screamed it loud.

But she said yes. She said _yes_. She moved in, and she allowed him to beat her when she wad "bad", to rape her as reward and as punishment. And she did it because she was hoping so very badly that it would be something –

And it never, _ever_ was.


	4. iii: it makes you stronger

**chapter three: it makes you stronger.**

_Slade_.

Names tastes like –

Steel icicles, a bad hair day, something slimy clinging down your throat, that funny feeling of dread that drops into your stomach when you know something bad is about to happen. Slade sounds like slate, like grey and hard and cold and painful misery and he wishes he had never heard the name before.

Slade.

But Slade Wilson doesn't live in a mansion these days. He lives in a prison, and there are plenty of rapists and no butlers. There are no masks to hide his (shamed) face, there is no way to escape. Not when he is beaten and shackled and handcuffed, and the wardens know better than to let anyone see him, to underestimate anyone who comes by. There will be no prison break for this man. He is only allowed to walk, not to work out. So he grows weak and unable to fight and couldn't get out if he tried.

He smiles the day one of his little birds shows up. The girl, with her hair (it's long again now, the way he always hated it) in a braid, her eyes haunted. He smugly knows that he's responsible for those haunted eyes and he doesn't feel bad about it at all.

"So what brings you here today?" he asks, looking her over and hungrily taking in her body. He wonders if he could convince her all over again that she needs him, that fucking him is in her best interest. She shudders.

"You don't own me anymore," she whispers, and he can't tell if she's trying to convince herself or if she's already done that. Doesn't matter; he laughs and it makes her jump.

"Of course I do," he says sweetly. "You shouted my name. You loved it," he says, his eyes dancing. "I remember, don't you? I remember the way you arched your back, and the light in your eyes, and when I said _spread your legs _you said _how far_," he whispers, reaching out to touch her knee again. She doesn't move away from it either, but stares down and the looks at it with no emotion in her eyes.

"You don't own me," she repeats, and this time she is calmer, more sure. And he laughs again, and then he coughs and suddenly seems old.

_I said spread your legs you said how far._

"So what were all those years, then, sweet Raven? Have you ever told you little friends about our liaison?" he asks, his eyes mocking her.

"You mean how you raped me every night because you said you were the only one who could ever help me with my powers, and kept me drugged so I would believe you?" she shoots back, "is that what you mean by _liaison?"_

"Just as fiery as ever. I have to admit, I didn't like the way the drugs dulled your spirit, but that's what you have to do when you're breaking a bitch," he growls. She slaps him and the warden pretends not to see.

"You disgust me," she hisses, and he does nothing but laugh. Although it sounds more like an echo now, like the last wheezes of a dying man. She can't stomach to be in the same room as him anymore, and she flies out, collapsing against a wall and refusing to cry and trying to catch her breath. And when she opens her eyes of course _he _is there and it's enough to bring tears.

"Hey, Raven," Robin says, standing over her with something like a smile on his face. "I thought I might find you here," he whispers, leaning down to help her stand back on her feet. And that's when she loses it, that's when she cries and the world doesn't come crashing down like it's supposed to, doesn't shatter into a million little tiny pieces (although on cup of coffee does).

"I should have told you," she whispers, feeling childish and stupid and most of all deeply, deeply ashamed. He shrugs.

"I listened to you when you were having the night terrors. You screamed so loudly," he whispers, patting her back. She shudders under his touch, and wishes she had something to say to him.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, even though she's not entirely sure what she's sorry about and only knows that she's sorry for something.

"I'm sorry too," he replies, and he's crying for some reason he doesn't understand (the years and innocence they both have lost to this one, twisted man?). But it feels so good to cry, even though crying is slimy and messy and wet and means admitting that yeah, they do have emotions, even though they are Titans and they're Robin and Raven, and the Ice Queen and the Fearless Leader aren't supposed to fall down, to get hurt or to cry or to show weakness of any sort (that would just be _wrong_.)

But this isn't Jump City square, and they're both wearing jeans and t-shirts, and no costumes (this is not the official, on-duty report of a hero, but the shattering of the hearts and minds of a boy and a girl). This is rape and anger and dark pasts and darker thoughts and days when they thought _please just let me wake up dead_. And he never told anyone, but he was Slade's apprentice too, and he was punished just like she was, and he was raped and he told himself it's for the greater good, like the idiot he was.


	5. epilogue: better

**epilogue – better.

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**

Her therapist's office has green carpets and brown chairs, all buttery soft and highly comfortable. And even though she'd never admit it, she kind of looks forward to therapy every week. The doctor is green-eyed and patient, listening to her problems and not judging, asking only about how she feels, where she wants to go from here. And even when she doesn't have all the answers, she knows that somewhere, she'll find them. They float by her in the air, waiting for her to grab out to the one she needs.

"I am so happy you have decided to accompany me in the shopping!" Starfire says in delight when Raven suggests they head to the mall. And the dark-eyed girl takes a deep breath to calm herself, convincing herself she can endure a small fitting room without having flashbacks, without claustrophobia. In practice, she only lasts a few minutes. But she's getting better.


End file.
